


familial duty

by lydtograce



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drugs, Graphic Strangulation, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Murder, Possessive Behavior, READ THE TAGS BE CAREFUL ABOUT TRIGGERS, Strangulation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydtograce/pseuds/lydtograce
Summary: in which renjun goes from being nothing, to everything, to nothing again&in which yukhei has everything, then nothing, then everything againAKAyukhei has a duty expected by his father, and renjun throws a spanner in the works.





	familial duty

**Author's Note:**

> writing this was fun but also!! hard as heck bc i kept procrastinating it, so sorry if it seems rushed in parts (it probably is),,, @yukundery on twitter!!
> 
> please read the tags i don't want anyone being triggered ;;

Huang Renjun is a possession. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He’s something to tease and hit and mock, something easily replaceable and common. Or, at least, that is all he is to Mr Wong; an unremarkable thing the man in question would compare to one of the many fabric fibers that build up the carpet in his hallway (scratch that, actually, at least the carpet fibers make up some pretty picture. From all Mr Wong sees, Renjun isn’t even a pretty face to see around the house – he's a shaky and malnourished sight to see about, and Mr Wong regrets ever accepting the boy into his home.) 

Renjun came into his possession at the age of fourteen (that was, what, two years ago now?), when his mother appeared at Mr Wong’s door, trembling in her rain stained attire, and begging for a desperate hit of the precious drug that the infamous male had found himself known for in the Jilin down world. He’d complied, as was polite, and as would gain him a profit – and then the woman had found herself at a loss payment wise. The duo had discussed a number of routes alternative to money before she’d agreed to hand over her son; brittle hand taking Mr Wong’s own strong appendage and effectively signing away her son’s life. 

It was pathetic, really, how addiction consumes people. Makes them lose touch on what’s truly important. 

But Mr Wong can’t judge her too harshly; honestly. It’s not as if he prides his own child too much – not that Yukhei has done much to earn his pride; even now, the boy shows no interest in taking after his aging father’s business path - a fact that has grey hairs of stress sprouting from the dealer’s roots. 

Yukhei is a disappointment. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Yukhei is seventeen, the age where other boys are expected to take on a sense of pride and authority, the age where other boys are expected to do something with their lives. 

And yet here he is – flicking peas back and forth across the table at the boy Mr Wong has been trying to tell him not to act equal to, at the boy he should behave superior to. Here he is, acting playfully with the common scum. 

This wouldn’t do. 

(SKIP) 

Yukhei and Renjun are inseparable. 

It’s a cliché statement for two best friends to say, yet they truly are. They eat together, they live together, and sometimes they even sleep together – when Renjun is plagued by the nightmarish memories of his mother’s betrayal, and he needs the comfort of Yukhei’s warmth to settle his restless mind. 

They spend the days together – have done since they were fourteen and fifteen – partaking in all sorts of petty crimes. The duo began with little thefts; a chocolate bar here or there, a pack of gum every now and again. In the two years since, their bravery has developed, and as of right this second, they’re bolting from a local electronics store (Renjun had suggested that the security would be lapsing there) with a numerous collection of cameras tucked beneath their arms. 

Paces slowing only once they’re considered a ‘safe distance’ from their target, the pair break into matching breathless peals of laughter – clutching their goods tightly against their chest. There’s a sense of pride drumming in Renjun’s veins, and adrenaline has Yukhei’s skin flushed a soft pink. Their breathing is at a matched, unsteady and yet still rhythmic pace, and it makes them strangely over-aware of the other’s presence (that kind of thing happens when the only other sound apart from the other is the gentle whistle of wind through trees), and such awareness darkens the blush against Yukhei’s tan. 

“What’d you get, then? Drop anything on the run?” Renjun’s tone shatters the ambiance, and the taller of the two can’t lie and say he doesn’t miss the moment they’d had, but Renjun’s tone is pretty, so he can’t stay too mad. “Dropped a lens or two, but...” Yukhei’s arm relinquishes slightly, to examine his winnings, and the sight brings him to groan. It appears that in a panic to keep a tight hold, and the hurry to get away fast, Yukhei has managed to smash and break close to every item he’d taken – bar a single mini camera. Sighing gently, he coaxes the debris of his stolen goods into his pockets (he’ll dispose of them in a more secure area), and leans forth to tuck the mini camera into Renjun’s shirt pocket. “You like taking pictures, right? Consider it my gift!” 

Younger of the duo smiling broadly, he’d raise a hand to pat at the gift tucked into his pocket – he doesn’t have the heart to tell the elder that he has the exact same mini camera tucked under his right arm. 

(SKIP) 

When they’re seventeen and eighteen, Mr Wong invests in a new live-in-maid, and it’s a boy to which Renjun finds an immediate kinship with. 

He goes by the name of Lee Donghyuck, and it’s evident from his initial timidness that’s new to Jilan – not even Chinese, but Korean. He’s in luck, however, for it surfaces that Renjun was raised in an area of Jilan densely populated by Korean immigrants, and therefore has a rather decent grasp on the language. Thus, his relationship with Donghyuck flourishes rather quickly. 

Yukhei isn’t jealous, he swears he’s not. 

He’s not jealous when he walks past the kitchen and catches sight of them cooking together; Donghyuck’s fingers curled around Renjun’s wrist the assist in the stirring of some brownie batter. He’s not jealous when Renjun brushes away a strand of hair, smears a selection of the batter across his temple, and Donghyuck gently wipes the trail away with his thumb. He’s not jealous when they lock eyes, and when they giggle together, and that feeling in his stomach? The one he gets when he glimpses Donghyuck pressing a kiss to the top of the Chinese boy’s head? When they think nobody can see? That feeling isn’t jealousy. He knows it. 

It does kind of hurt, though, when he hears Renjun shuffling around in the hallway, and pulls aside his blanket in expectation, and then moments later hears voices from down the way – Donghyuck's room. 

And by kind of hurt, he means stings like hell. 

In this situation, Yukhei opts to do what any other, normal, teenage boy would do in the same situation. He asks his dad for advice. 

Of course, not every other, normal, teenage boy has to schedule an appointment with his father, or stay seated on the opposite of a desk from him – but it’s something, isn’t it? It’s definitely something that his father opens with a smile, and seems genuinely concerned when he inquires “Everything okay, Yukhei?” 

And now he’s here, the boy truly isn’t sure what his issue is, so he simply inquires regarding the most recent issue: “What would you do if someone replaces you?” 

There’s a beat, whilst his father contemplates an answer, before resting both his elbows on the desk before him – and leaning forwards, 

“I’d get rid of whatever – whoever – they replaced me with.” 

(SKIP) 

Donghyuck’s room is small. Yukhei’s not sure what he expected – after all – it's not like his father has ever shown much care and consideration for the live-in maids. But these bare quarters are... far from what he’d been imagining. Donghyuck himself is a little louder than he’d been expecting, as well, if the sound of his laughter carrying down the hallway exposed anything about his volume. 

It’s because of his sound that, upon his entrance into the room, Yukhei has to clamp a hand over his mouth and squeeze tight. He’s still loud, albeit, but the muffling enclosure of the elder’s appendage makes it nearly inaudible. The younger thrashes in his arms, and there is a momentary stab of guilt in Yukhei’s chest. He could let go. He didn’t have to follow through with what he and his father had planned in that office. There was nothing holding him to the agreement he’d made with the man who’s hardly ever had time for him, yet still has the gall to call him son. 

Nothing holding him to it, of course, bar his father’s voice – never ceasing in it’s ringing in his head. 

“Don’t fight me, Donghyuck, please. It’ll make it hurt more.” There’s a blade withdrawn with Yukhei’s free hand, and it’s pressed to the bare skin at the younger’s back – made apparent by his thrashings, lifting his shirt – and the cool metal does little to calm the younger. Why would it, after all? He must be terrified. 

“Donghyuck, please...” Yukhei’s not sure why he sounds like the desperate one; why he’s the one with the tears in his eyes despite the fact that he’s the one with the knife to the other’s back, the hand clamped over the other’s mouth. He just knows he can barely hear himself; his father’s voice is ringing in his ears at a volume so deafening it drowns out his surround. 

Startling, Donghyuck’s teeth clamp down on the fingers about his lips, and in shocked retaliation – Yukhei thrusts his blade forwards. 

It was an accident. Really, it was. 

(SKIP) 

“The plan wasn’t to kill him, Yukhei. Just to scare him off. Get him to back off.” 

He’s back in his father’s office, and his hands won’t stop shaking. There’s blood on the hem of his shirt and his eyes haven’t shifted from it for the last ten minutes. He’s surprised his father hasn’t picked up on his transfixed, traumatic state. 

But then again, his father hardly knows him, how was he to know this wasn’t just regular old Yukhei? 

“It was an accident, it... He...” The boy’s voice is hoarse, and he hears the squeak of the chair legs as his father rises from behind his desk. The floorboards creak, to signal his approach, and the shadows expose that he has raised a hand – Yukhei flinches – before the appendage lands on his shoulder and rubs. “I’m proud of you, son. I really am.” 

The warmth about his shoulder relinquishes, and Mr Wong returns to his usual positioning – across from the boy. Yukhei’s gaze tears from the stain, and he catches his father’s stare with equal force. 

“Now, would you like your congratulatory gift?” 

(SKIP) 

They’re eighteen and nineteen, and Yukhei is on a strictly long sleeve wardrobe. 

As a matter of fact, Renjun can recall that the last time he saw the other’s arms was that fateful day last August – the one he only remembers as it’d been the day Donghyuck took off, not even leaving a note in his wake. 

Every other day, Renjun ponders where he may have gone. 

Even at night in his sleepwear, Yukhei dons long sleeves. He tugs at the cuffs as if to pull them down over his hands, and shrinks under the stares of those who scrutinize his motions. He’s a lot more shaky, nowadays. His behavior’s a lot more erratic. 

There comes a night where, following a nightmare in which Donghyuck and his mother take turns shoving Renjun around, the younger boy has crawled into the elder’s bed and is clinging tight to his form - when he notes that Yukhei’s familiar warmth is gone; his skin is cold to the touch, and no matter how much Renjun clings, he doesn’t seem to get any warmer. 

As well as this, he observes that compared to the previous year, the boy’s frame seems smaller. So much so that, if Renjun didn’t know any better, he’d believe they were of the same weight; despite Yukhei’s five-inch height advantage over the other. 

It was concerning. 

“Hei, you awake?” Shaking gently against the other’s shoulder, a sleepy head flops on the pillow, drooping gaze flicking to meet Renjun’s concerned stare. The voice that responds is groggy, slightly disorientated, “Am now, Jun. Something up?” 

Renjun brings his fingers up, then, to traipse across all the lines of his friend’s face. They’re more prominent then they’ve ever been; he’s definitely lost a lot of weight. Under his touch, the boy squirms, and the younger can feel arms and legs encircle his waist – tugging him closer. “Just making sure you’re okay, yeah? I worry about you, you know? I feel like nowadays I don’t even know you.” As he speaks, Renjun’s hands drop to rest atop Yukhei’s (which are currently lying at his waist – don't blush, Renjun. Don’t blush!), and he shifts a little closer. Their noses are maybe touching. 

“I’m fine, Junnie. I’d tell you if I wasn’t. Promise?” The taller’s hand attempts to move as if to raise and offer a pinky promise, but Renjun’s grasp holds it in place. 

“If you really promise...” Yukhei might be half asleep, but he doesn’t trust the mischievous glint in Renjun’s eyes – faintly apparent in the dull moonlight beaming through the window. “Prove you trust me.” 

Startling, the older male blinks – rapidly – before calming and composing a plan. Following a beat or two of consideration, he leans forth, meeting the younger’s lips with his own, and braces himself for a rejection... 

That doesn’t come. 

On the contrary, Renjun’s grasp digs tighter into his skin, and his lips (chapped, that’s something noted), and he seems almost... desperate? Is that the word? Desperate to hold Yukhei, desperate to touch him and to taste him. It’s cute. 

Breaking apart, the elder breathes out a sharp exhale, before giggling, “I trust you with my first kiss, is that enough?” 

(SKIP) 

Yukhei has Renjun. 

So why isn’t he happy? 

All he’s wanted is Renjun. All he’s done is for Renjun. All his heart and mind have ever asked for is Renjun. So now, when he’s got Renjun in his lap, or when he’s got fingers running through Renjun’s hair, or when they’re lying together – hands clutching tight to the other – late at night... Why is he not happy? He should be happy. He should be beaming and proud and content. 

But he feels empty, and every time Renjun smiles, he feels a pang of guilt. Every kiss burns his skin, every touch makes him flinch. The other boy must’ve realized; he’s not said anything. Thank everything that he’s not said anything. 

Yukhei’s twenty, now, and Renjun’s nineteen. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and runs a hesitant finger down in lines against his arm – catching slightly at the scarring and scabbing caused by two years' worth of consistent, daily needle injections. That’d been his father’s congratulatory gift, see? An addiction. A loss of normality and casual emotion, a loss at joy or care. A loss of empathy. And above it all – a loss of a true relationship with Renjun; although he has him, what is their relationship if Yukhei feels nothing anymore? Nothing but a dull pang of what he thinks could possibly be love, but he can’t be sure. He can’t remember. 

Thanks, dad. He would’ve preferred a new phone. 

Pale fingers reaching for the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet – the one Renjun’s banned from opening, the one with the lock – he withdraws the strip of fabric tucked away; tightly fastening it about his upper arm as a makeshift tourniquet. Following this action, he dipped again, to grasp a small bottle and a needle – when the door to his bedroom swings open, and a grasp chills the blood in his veins. 

“Hei, you’re using?” 

And Yukhei regrets turning around to face the entrance way because Renjun is there - tucked into one of Yukhei’s long sleeved jumpers – trembling away. His fingers are clutching the door handle so tightly the digits are turning white, and Yukhei scrambles to grasp his wrist; pulling him away from the doorway in a frantic panic. “No, Jun, I can explain, I-” Renjun tears his hand away, and there’s an almost angry blaze to his stare. He’s furious; so much so that his entire body is shaking, knuckled fists trembling at his sides. “You’re using! You absolute dick! First Donghyuckie leaves me, now the drugs are taking you away! Fuck you, Yukhei!” 

Ouch. 

Regret overwhelming, Yukhei tries again for an apology, but Renjun shoves at him and he stumbles; traipsing backward and colliding with his wardrobe rather harshly. When he straightens, there’s a damp space at the back of his head – and when an inquisitive hand is drawn away from said space, it reveals crimson. Renjun hurt him. Renjun shoved him. Renjun tried to injure him; make him feel pain.

Renjun made him bleed.

“You hurt me...” There’s no curious questioning nature to his tone: it’s pure statement of fact. And despite the fact that Renjun is apologetic, hands outstretched to tend to the wound, Yukhei can only see red. This is why, to the sounds of “I’m sorry!” and “I didn’t mean it!” he ends up launching at the younger, fingers wrapping about his neck and squeezing. As the smaller boy wheezes, Yukhei’s tone is apathetic, and his grip tightens, “I killed him. I killed Donghyuck. My father told me to make him go away, get rid of him, but I accidentally killed him. It was his fault! His stupid fault!” He shakes the boy – who has now gone worryingly limp – in his grasp, as if coaxing him into staying attentive. 

“If he’d have left you alone, he’d have been okay. But he didn’t, did he? He liked you. He liked you too much, and so he had to go.” Renjun is unresponsive, and Yukhei’s thumbs press hard against his windpipe in an attempt to coax some kind of retaliation to his words. “I’m sorry for hurting you, but I did it because I wanted you. I wanted to love you. But I couldn’t love you how I wanted, because of the drugs. But I will love you like that, one day. We’ll be happy together.” 

Hold on the other relinquishing, the tiny frame drops to the floor with a sickening crack. Before exiting the room, Yukhei dips to press a kiss against the younger’s forehead, “I did love you. From what I can remember of love, you had all of mine.” 

He pauses, to examine the pale face at his feet, “Thank you for being my one good thing.” 

(SKIP) 

They’re in the kitchen, him and his father. Yukhei’s in a short sleeved shirt, and the needle track marks up and down his arms are glaringly prominent. His father slings an arm round his shoulders, dropping a kiss to the top of his head; against his hair. 

“Well done, Hei. I’ve never been so proud of you.” 

A break, a pause, his dad squeezes a brief side hug. 

“I love you, son.”

**Author's Note:**

> yukren is super SUPER unhealthy in this fic,,, that is NOT an ideal relationship. but it's like that bc yukhei's dad in this is!!!!!! the devil!!!! and it's fucked up yuk real bad. 
> 
> renhyuck are cute tho,
> 
> also!! i had prompt 13 aka "Person A is a the son of a drug lord and person B is the son an unfortunate addict, because B's dad can't pay off his debt, he sells his youngest son aka B to A's dad. A and B grow up together. A and B fall for each other and are happy in their teenage years, but then A falls into the trap of drugs and B can only watch, as A's family only encourages his bad habit. B tries to leave A but A promises to change, they run away but A has an extreme replapse and ends up accidentally harming B in a rage. he becomes complete slave to his mind and goes crazy, in the end B does what he always wanted to do to his dad, he kills A"
> 
> hope i paid it justice!


End file.
